


Uninvited

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Uninvited

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Uninvited by GroundZero

7 November 1998  
Disclaimer: All of the characters within belong to The Roach King, Chris Carter. I'm just playing with them for a while, and when I'm finished I'll smuggle them out to Morgan & Wong, who could really do things with 'em. "Uninvited" belongs to Alanis Morissette and comes to us courtesy of the wonderful "City of Angels" soundtrack. I dig Alanis, so I hope she doesn't sue me; and on the subject of the "hot-blooded woman" line...it's the perfect song for this story, so goddammit, just ignore the "wo".   
Timeline: Set after Tunguska/Terma (and before Patient X/The Red and the Black), but taking into account that all those one-armed Russians were nothing more than a continuity error. If Chris Carter can't play nice with poor Alex, I will, dammit. And I'll get him a little action while I'm at it.   
Rating: NC-17, 'cause we got some gorgeous guys doin' things to each other that the rest of us envy them for.

* * *

Uninvited  
by GroundZero ()

When he came home, there was an armed gunman on his couch.

Not bothering with the lights, he shrugged off his trench and jacket, rolling up his shirt-sleeves as he headed for the kitchen. 

"Beer?" he asked the still figure. It nodded, the dark barrel of a pistol glinting against a black-clad thigh in the dim light from the window. 

When he returned from the kitchen, two cold beers in hand, the gun was resting on the coffee table. The man on the couch accepted the drink with a grateful nod, and Mulder unclipped his own weapon from his hip, placing it on the table before sinking into the couch, resting easily next to his visitor. 

"What's with the gun?" Mulder asked, popping his beer open and taking a long swallow. "Afraid I was gonna try to kill you?" 

"It wouldn't be the first time," his guest answered wryly. "No, that's just in case. Your apartment's a high-traffic area. And I was a boy scout, so I know that the most important thing is to be prepared." 

"You're smearing the good name of the Boy Scouts of America. Besides, if you were a boy scout, shouldn't you have fallen off a cliff or something by now?" His answer was a chuckle, but no return commentary. "What about bugs? If somebody's listening in, I'm going to have to shoot you just to maintain my reputation." The joke came out a bit strangled and half-serious.

"I fried 'em with a new toy of mine. You really need a new place, Mulder, this apartment's got more coverage than the Superbowl." The familiar voice held a smirk, but it quickly fell silent to be replaced by the slosh of liquid in an upturned bottle. 

Mulder took another long swallow of his beer, too, wishing he could get incredibly drunk incredibly fast but settling for watching the walls in silence. The other man just watched his profile intently. 

Finally, Mulder disturbed the still air with a question. "You have something for me, Krycek?" He let his gaze slide away from the wall and toward the man on the other end of the couch, eyes taking in the thin, healing but livid cut on the left cheek and the pallor of the skin, the familiar high cheekbones, small chin and nose, green eyes. The ever-present leather jacket looked even worse for wear than it had the last time. There was blood on the white t-shirt peeking out from underneath.

Krycek sighed, nodded, reached under the couch and pulled out an envelope, which he handed to Mulder. "I'm not sure if it's really anything of consequence, but it caught my attention." 

Mulder nodded his acknowledgement, opening the clasp and sliding the envelope's contents out into his hand: a sheef of papers, most stamped "Classified" or "Top Secret". 

"I'll look into it," he said, shoving the envelope back under the couch. 

"Be careful," Krycek countered.

Mulder didn't respond. He expected the other man to just get up and leave, maybe say something antagonistic along the way. But he hadn't done that in a while. Instead, he'd just dropped by Mulder's apartment, let himself in, and waited until Mulder got home to give him some juicy tidbit. It had happened three times now, and Mulder wasn't ever sure if it would happen again. The difference was that the previous two visits had been formal, cold, and Krycek had left when their business was done. This time, Mulder knew what he was waiting for. 

"It can't happen again, Alex," he said, after the silence dragged on for at least five minutes. His voice was loud enough to be heard, but toned too softly, and it wavered a little. 

"Why not, Mulder?" Krycek's answering tone was even more quiet, and became a little more rough as he lowered it. 

"I hate you." The agent somehow managed to make his words sound hostile. 

"That's not true. You want to hate me. But you don't." 

Mulder's eyes fluttered shut. *If you can't see it, it's not there. If you can't see it, it's not there...* "You're a murderer." His voice nearly broke. 

"But you don't care." The rough voice was soft and soothing now, sympathetic. "Some day you'll be able to understand. You'll hear the truth, such as it is, and things will make a little more sense. You'll see why I did the things I did." 

"So tell me the truth now. Make me understand." The message in the words was clear: lie to me. Tell me what I want to hear. 

Krycek understood what Mulder didn't say, but refused to oblige. Instead, he leaned in a closer, shifting his weight, until his mouth was mere inches from the other man's. "Ah, Mulder. You give whole new meaning to the phrase 'I want to believe'." 

xxx

Like anyone would be  
I am flattered by your fascination with me  
Like any hot-blooded woman  
I have simply wanted an object to crave  
But you, you're not allowed  
You're uninvited  
An unfortunate slight

xxx

Their lips touched tentatively at first, then Krycek's body surged forward, pushing Mulder onto his back on the couch and pinning him there while the former agent's tongue plundered the current agent's mouth. Mulder laid still and unresponsive for a moment, then returned the other man's attentions, their mouths dueling for supremacy and their bodies pressed tightly together. 

The beer can nearly slipped from his nerveless fingers, but Krycek grabbed it, sitting the can on the table with his own without ever breaking the kiss. When both hands were free again, he allowed them free reign to wander over Mulder's body, the talented fingers slipping up and down the other man's sides, caressing his chest, clutching his neck. Finally one of them found its way to Mulder's crotch and stayed there, kneading gently at the growing bulge in Mulder's pants. 

Krycek wasn't surprised when the other man suddenly groaned, then just as suddenly pushed him away. He had expected this, anticipated it, but he let Mulder stop him anyway. 

"I can't," the agent whispered, his voice really cracking now, hands braced against Krycek's chest, holding the traitor at bay. "I can't. We can't. There's too much between us now, it's too late. Tunguska..." 

His train of thought suddenly derailed when Krycek's warm hand played at his crotch again and those delicious lips descended to nibble at his neck. His voice trailed off into a low sigh, and the pressure of his arms pushing against the other man's chest suddenly decreased. Krycek settled himself on the floor this time, kneeling beside Mulder and pulling the agent back into a slumped sitting position and easing himself between the other man's legs. 

"Don't you remember, Mulder?" his low voice taunted, undoing the buttons of Mulder's shirt with one hand and still stroking the other man's straining erection with the other. "Don't you remember how it feels? Has it been so easy for you to forget?" 

"Jesus," was Mulder's only answer, a breathless exclamation. He squeezed his eyes shut in an apparent effort to will the touch away. 

"Did you forget all about me?" Krycek continued, pulling Mulder forward enough to strip off both of the shirts he wore, running his hands across the newly uncovered expanse of skin as the agent fell back into the embrace of the leather couch. As he pulled off the silent man's shoes and socks, he whispered, "Did you forget, Mulder?" 

Mulder faintly registered the fact that hands stripping off his belt, that his pulse was incredibly fast, and his breathing was rapid and shallow, but none of it really penetrated the haze in his brain until Krycek pulled his painfully rigid cock from his pants and he felt hot breath rush over the head of the sensitive organ.

"Did you forget what I can do for you?"

xxx

Must be strangely exciting  
To watch the stoic squirm  
Must be somewhat hard telling  
To watch them burn me shepherd  
But you, you're not allowed  
You're uninvited  
An unfortunate slight

xxx

Mulder returned from his hormonal heaven in the next moment, and suddenly realized that Alex Krycek had stripped him of everything but his pants (and those were only a matter of time). He also realized that the younger man was kneeling between his legs, and was about to...well, he didn't want to get into that just then, because if he thought about it there'd be no way he'd be able to stop it. 

He felt that moist, talented tongue begin to slide along his cock at the same moment that he reached forward and put his hands on the cool leather covering Krycek's shoulders and pushed the other man backwards, the force hard and abrupt and sending the younger man into the coffee table. Krycek swore in what was probably Russian, and his head cracked audibly when it connected with the table. 

Mulder took the opportunity to vault over the back of the couch, putting the piece of furniture between himself and Alex Krycek and painfully replacing his raging erection into his boxers and pulling up his pants. 

When he looked back up, Krycek was picking himself up from the floor, pressing the heel of his hand to his temple, stemming the flow of blood from a newly-acquired wound. He glared at Mulder, making no move toward him but noting that the agent was poised like a pale, spooked horse, ready for flight. 

"A simple 'no' would have sufficed, Mulder," Krycek growled, blood slipping a black trail down his hand in the darkness. 

"I'm sorry," Mulder whispered. He wasn't sure if he really was sorry, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Besides, parts of him were tremendously sorry that he'd acted so impulsively, and the dull throb in his groin was letting him know it. 

Krycek nodded, either in acceptance of the apology or the sentiment of it, and started for the door, snatching up his gun from the table and sliding it into the dark recesses of his jacket. 

"It's alright, Mulder," he said as he moved, voice hard and professional again. "I'll get out of here. And next time I find something interesting, I'll put it in the fucking mail." 

Mulder didn't move, didn't speak for a moment, but found himself whimpering on behalf of certain unrelieved body parts as the other man reached for the doorknob. Krycek stopped with his hand on the knob, leaned his forehead on the door. 

"Mulder," he muttered, something like laughter escaping his lips and his voice barely carrying, "you poor confused bastard. Do you want me to leave, or not?" 

When he finally found his voice, Mulder discovered that he could form only small words. While one part of his brain found that development incredibly perplexing, the rest was busy looked for the appropriate word, which it finally found and forced out his mouth. 

"Stay."

Krycek sagged against the door, turned around to face him. "Are you sure?" 

He nodded, just slightly, and said it again. "Stay."

Making no move to leave, Krycek leaned against the door and watched the other man, a pensive expression on his face and a sharp pain emanating from his wounded head. He seemed neither inclined to leave nor sure about staying, so Mulder moved tenatively across the room, his motions cautious, until he stood in front of his wounded counterpart. He raised his hands to cup Krycek's face and pressed his lips to the cut, tongue darting out to lap up the wet blood. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered faintly, meaning it this tim, pressing his body close against Krycek's and sandwiching the younger man between himself and the door. 

Alex moaned when Mulder's hips pressed against his, and muttered, "Apology accepted," in a deep, smiling voice. 

Mulder drew his former partner back to the couch, pulling the leather jacket from his shoulders and allowing it to fall to the floor. Krycek's gun clattered back to the table, and his t-shirt and belt quickly joined the jacket on the floor. Mulder pushed him down on the couch, running his hands over the smooth flesh of Krycek's chest. The agent knelt between his lover's knees, taking the position vacated long minutes before. He hoped he wouldn't receive the same treatment he'd given, but he wasn't sure what to expect. 

"I'll make it up to you," he whispered, lightly touching the wound with the fingers of one hand and cupping the hard ridge of Krycek's growing erection with the other. 

Krycek's eyes fluttered shut, and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "What did you have in mind, Agent Mulder?" he asked, voice low and seductive, the fingers of one hand skimming Mulder's shoulder lightly. 

Mulder leaned in wordlessly, pressing his lips to Krycek's chest and wrapping strong arms around his back, pulling jean-clad hips forward to the edge of the couch. He abandoned the younger man's chest for a moment, bending to pull of his scuffed boots and worn socks, then returned to Krycek's waist, his fingers working on the button and zipper of the jeans while his mouth tended to one nipple at a time. Once he won the battle with the strained zipper, Mulder lifted Krycek's hips and pulled down his jeans and boxers, freeing a sigh from his former partner's lips as he freed an erect cock from his former partner's clothes. He pulled away again to quickly yank the clothes from the other man's body altogether, tossing them on the floor. 

When he leaned back to survey his work, he found that it didn't take much of a leap to determine that Alex Krycek, aroused and naked, was the most beautiful sight the world had to offer. He doubted even Scully would be able to find a hole in that theory, not that he'd ever share his prize long enough to find out anyway. When he looked up to find Krycek's half-lidded green eyes staring down at him, he smiled and returned his attention to the problem at hand. 

And the problem, as he saw it, was that he and Krycek had had sex only once before, in a cold cell in Tunguska. He had enjoyed himself, he couldn't deny that, but he had never had the chance to repay Alex for his kindness. He'd gotten the most incredibly blow job of his life in that cell, but then he'd chickened out when it occurred to him that he ought to return the favor. He'd pushed the other man away, not literally but with sharp, brutal words. He'd been surprised when Krycek graciously accepted his decision and hadn't returned his anger. They hadn't spoken of it since. He still felt there was a debt to be paid. And he would pay it, and enjoy paying it, as long as Alex would let him.

xxx

Like any uncharted territory  
I must seem greatly intriguing  
You speak of my love like  
You have experienced love like mine before  
But this is not allowed  
You're uninvited  
An unfortunate slight

xxx

It occurred to him, in the split second it took to drop his face and begin nuzzling the hard flesh of before him with the rough stubble of his cheek, that if Scully ever found out about this she would never trust him again. That if she suddenly walked through the door, his life as he knew it would be over. But oddly, he didn't really care. He loved Scully, and he loved his work, but he was tired, and just the time that he spent with Krycek would be worth the consequence if they were discovered.

He realized that he'd been still for a few moments when strong fingers suddenly weaved themselves into his hair and prompted motion. He obliged, raising his head slightly to kiss the weeping head of Krycek's cock, eliciting a low moan from the other man's throat and an involuntary jerk from his hips. 

Krycek's hands, still gripping his head, guided him toward the hard flesh before him, and before he knew it he was granting the silent request, his mouth opening and welcoming the organ into his mouth. His reward was a wordless gasp, and Krycek jerked underneath him, the movement nearly choking him. 

xxx

I don't think you unworthy  
I need a moment to deliberate

xxx

When Mulder suddenly pulled back, Krycek groaned his disappointment but looked at the agent with concern. A troubled look sat on the older man's expressive face. 

"I don't know if I can..." Mulder whispered, his voice trailing off as his eyes found their way back to Krycek's unflagging erection. 

"It's okay," Krycek answered, an almost desperate note in his voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't...you haven't done this before, have you?" 

Mulder shook his head negatively, glancing at the floor and leaning back to balance on the balls of his feet. 

"I didn't mean to scare you off," Krycek said, pulling his torso away from the couch to put Mulder back within his reach. He took advantage of the shortened distance, not counting on it to last, and put his hands on Mulder's shoulders, his fingers gently stroking the overheated skin. "You don't have to do this. It's okay."

Mulder looked dubiously at Krycek's slightly pained expression, then at the floor again, feeling the other man's hands heavily on his shoulders. "I want to," he finally said. "I just...don't know what to do." 

Krycek smiled softly, leaning back again. "You were doing fine. I'll try not to move too suddenly on you. You'll know when you're doing it right." 

Nodding and regaining his previous position, Mulder placed his lips gently on the side of Krycek's cock and let his tongue dart out to grant the skin a moist caress. "How will I know if I'm doing it right?" he asked, lips still pressed to the other man's flesh. 

Krycek let his head fall back and moaned at the vibration the words caused, one hand straying to Mulder's hair again. "That's how you'll know," the younger man gasped, letting his hand stray down to the back of Mulder's neck, pulling him up to let their lips meet for a long, searing kiss before releasing him and letting him continue his ministrations.

Mulder did so with new enthusiasm, taking the hard organ into his mouth again, this time applying a little suction, letting the roof of his mouth or his teeth scrape lightly over the sensitive skin, his hand moving over the flesh his mouth couldn't swallow. Krycek shifted restlessly, wordless murmurs crafting nonsense sounds, his body writhing under Mulder's hands, responding readily to his attentions. 

When the warm stream of fluid finally shot into his mouth, Mulder savored its taste and accompanying yell and swallowed quickly, milking the weakening cock in his mouth until he had squeezed forth every errant drop. Letting the flesh slide easily from his mouth, he looked up at Krycek, and caught his breath.

The man's chest was heaving with exertion, and his entire body was glistening lightly with a thin sheen of sweat. His head was thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open, drawing in deep breaths, looking for all the world like some wild creature that had just taken down its prey. 

Mulder sat and watched him for long moments while his breathing slowed and his eyes opened to look lazily down at the agent. "Mulder?" he whispered, voice raw.

"Yeah?"

"You did it right." A smile curved Krycek's lips, and he reached for his lover lethargically, drawing the other man slowly up to rest on his chest, their lips meeting in the middle. 

When they finally broke for air, Mulder whispered, "I don't know...I think I could use some practice. And I'm always eager to learn new things." 

Mulder's smile was positively wicked, and Krycek didn't doubt him for a minute. 

THE END

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